


Day 1 (Gut You Like a Fish)

by JEAikman



Series: Constance Week [1]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Gen, Our precious darling stands up for herself, and slimeballs like her husband ain't gonna stop her this time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-06
Updated: 2014-07-06
Packaged: 2018-02-07 16:57:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1906797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JEAikman/pseuds/JEAikman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>First installment for Constance Week on tumblr.<br/>6th July: Favorite line, episode or scene (or a combination of the three)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Day 1 (Gut You Like a Fish)

Constance Week : Day 1

**Favourite Scene/Line/Episode**

 

* * *

 

 

 _"Touch me again and I will gut you like a fish."_  She had said those words once before, to a man she had ended up loving with all of her heart. This time, though, she was brandishing her knife at the husband who had never treated her as an equal, who had only ever looked down upon her as a silly little woman. Had only ever bought her jewellery so that he could flaunt his wealth - it had never been anything to her taste.

Every time they had lain together had been awful for her. Her husband clearly had no idea what it took to please a woman. No wonder they had never had children. That feeling had only become more insistent after she and d’Artagnan had spent nights together. The way d’Artagnan made her feel - like she was a goddess to be worshipped and adored - surely that was how love was meant to be.

And she might have given up her freedom with d’Artagnan, where she could have had everything that she ever wanted, so that her pathetic slimeball of a husband didn’t kill himself, but she was beginning to wonder why she even bothered. She was quite sure she wouldn’t even shed one tear if she woke up the next morning to find his throat slit. She even found herself wishing that Milady hadn’t left France, just so she could request her services. Payback for the whole kidnapping mess.

As it was, today, her husband had pressured her to make love to him - in the loosest sense of the word, after all, it wasn’t like there was any love involved in their marriage anyway. He’d placed a hand on her shoulder, which she flinched away from, and turned to face him with a snarl, pointing the kitchen knife at his throat. Which was how they’d gotten to this point in the first place.

"If you want to keep those hands, Monsieur, I suggest that you keep them to yourself. I’m leaving. And you are not going to stop me." She picked up a bag of her things which she had kept hidden in d’Artagnan’s room for just such an occasion as this. She took a malicious sort of glee from the helpless look on her husband’s face. No, not her husband. Jacques Bonacieux. He was nothing to her. Nothing. She was a respectable married woman no longer. She was the wind, quickening a flame until her misery was nothing but ashes and memory.

She held her head high and walked out the door, slamming it shut behind her, and her heart felt light as a feather.


End file.
